I'm fine, really
by Alice in Wonderless Land
Summary: Kurt is indescribably lonely, but his wounds are slowly healing thanks to a friend. Kurt/Blaine Klaine
1. Damn it, the loneliness

Chapter One: Damn it, the loneliness.

* * *

Kurt wasn't going to lie to himself. He had amazing friends, and a fantastic father who would do anything for him, and a teacher that cared enough to confront him about his sadness (though, admittedly, not enough to _do_ anything about it).

But damn it, the _loneliness_.

It was worse than having his heart ripped out of his chest (Finn, clearly) because it felt as if there was nothing there at all. It was this hollow cavity underneath his ribs that echoed with his own voice, solitary and alone.

With a shaky sigh he closed his locker, briefly casting a glance at Blaine's picture. It felt strange, looking at Blaine's face. They had met and talked at Dalton, exchanged phone numbers and Blaine had said "If you ever need me, call."

What he hadn't said is "whenever you need me, look at my picture."

And the very action of having a photo of someone who wasn't your boyfriend (wait, scratch that, they were barely even _friends_) in your locker was downright stalker-ish. If Blaine hadn't given him the photo himself, it would have been stalkerific.

The loneliness that crushed Kurt every day had lessened. That was true. But he was cautious. It was stupid to fall head over heels for the first (goddamned gorgeous) gay guy his age he met. With a furtive glance, he shot a look at the Neanderthal. Well, the only _out_ gay guy his age.

Just the thought of that brute made rage boil through him. He took his first kiss that meant something. The first kiss with a boy. He had stolen it from him and Kurt couldn't even tell anyone (apart from Blaine, of course). More emptiness, more meaninglessness, more loneliness.

"Kurt?"

Kurt's head shot up to meet Mercedes' concerned stare.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" she cocked an eyebrow. "You've been all hush-hush lately."

Kurt opened his locker again, hoping to distract himself with something inside.

"I'm fine, Merce. Really."

Mercedes didn't look convinced. In fact, she looked one hundred per cent sceptical. Kurt fiddled with his books. _Pride and Prejudice_ fell out of his hands and he stammered, leaning down to pick it up. He stayed there for a while, crouched on the floor. It was disgusting, really. And dirty. And he was going to stretch out his new jeans. But it was also quieter, away from Mercedes' eyes.

"Who's this?"

Kurt shot back up so fast that his perfectly coiffed head of hair only narrowly missed his open locker door.

"Who?"

Mercedes was looking with a pleased smile at Blaine's picture, an eyebrow cocked again.

"Him."

"T-That's no one. Come on, we're going to be late for practice."

"Is he your boyfriend?" she seemingly blurted out, the words escaping her mouth with a little too much excitement.

Kurt glanced at the word underneath Blaine's picture. _Courage. _

"No," Kurt admitted. "It's not like that."

"Either way," Mercedes hummed to herself. "He is _fine_."

"Thankfully he's playing for my team or else I'd be worried," Kurt joked weakly, the hollow cavity in his chest echoing sadly with a brief laugh.

"So you want him to be your boyfriend?" Mercedes asked.

Kurt simply closed his locker in reply, casting his best friend and small glance. He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"We're already late. Come on."

On the way to rehearsals, their conversation over lunch the previous day flashed through his mind.

"_He's an asshole," Blaine shrugged. "I can't believe he took something from you as special as your first kiss."_

_As Kurt rose to defend himself, Blaine self-corrected, "Well, your first kiss that mattered."_

_Kurt just looked sadly down at his sandwich. Blaine had been kind enough to buy lunch (kind, talented, gorgeous) but the options around McKinley High School were strictly limited to fast food or service station sandwiches. Which explained why they were sitting there at the cafe, eating service station sandwiches._

"_I didn't say anything when it happened," Kurt explained. "I just stood there in shock. And he leaned in again and I pushed him away and he just stormed off. It was terrible. I really hate him."_

"_Leaving you speechless in all the wrong ways, huh?" Blaine took a sip of his coffee (long black, which was just too much of an innuendo to not chuckle at internally)._

"_Thanks for being here. Just seeing your face made me feel better," Kurt admitted shyly, sipping his own coffee. _

_A look dawned across Blaine's face and Kurt thought he'd gone too far. Of course this gorgeous, talented, proud, fantastic, kind, generous guy wouldn't go for such a weak little wimp. The thought of Kurt having a thing for him was probably a shock. Why would he even dare?_

_But no. There were no scathing remarks. Blaine just got his bag and rifled through it determinedly._

"_I know it's in here somewhere..."_

_Kurt frowned and looked on as Blaine removed a piece of paper from his bag. He unfolded it and grimaced at what he saw before handing it to Kurt._

"_It's my school picture, which always looks like a mug shot. But whatever. Have it. Maybe it'll make you feel better," Blaine smiled. If Kurt wasn't so sure that Blaine was unconquerable, he would have thought that the dark-haired tenor was blushing._

_Kurt glanced down at the picture. Blaine's face stared out back at him, green eyes unquestioningly confident, framed by thick brown eyebrows. His mouth had the barest hint of a smile, lips curving slightly. It wasn't a mug shot at all._

_It was perfect._

"_Kurt..."_

"Kurt? Kurt!"

Kurt's head snapped up.

"What?" he asked, confused.

The entire Glee club was staring at him, Mr Schue looking particularly concerned.

"You drifted off for a second there, bud. You okay?" Schue frowned. Yeah, Schue could talk a good game. He could seem concerned and even feel the concern deep in his heart, but acting on it would never happen.

Kurt bit his lip. "Yeah, sorry. I'm fine."

Schue smiled, pleased with the answer Kurt had given him.

"Great. Okay guys, from the top!"

* * *

Blaine was lying in bed.

It would have been absolutely normal apart from the fact that Blaine never just lay in bed. He was never late for school (any more, at least), and yet the clock was ticking over to eight o'clock and he was still lying in his bed.

He had been awake since six thirty, when his alarm went off. But he remained still, unmoving, in his bed.

Okay, so maybe 'unmoving' was a bit of an exaggeration. He had moved, but only to periodically check his phone.

No messages. No missed calls. Nada, nothing, zilch.

After the debacle last week with that big guy at McKinley, Blaine had (quite literally) been waiting for the phone to ring. He had it planned out. It would ring, and he would pick up, and he would hear Kurt's tired, upset voice on the other end.

And Blaine would nod, and comfort him, and they would meet up, and talk, and... and...

Well, the thing was that Blaine really had no 'and'. Kurt hadn't called, so there was no need for an 'and' and it was, truthfully, really frustrating. Kurt was that sweet contradiction of completely inexperienced yet so sure of himself that made him an interesting person to talk to.

And Blaine was somewhat tempted to put his wealth of experience to good use...

What didn't help was that Kurt was, quite possibly, the absolute and perfect incarnation of Blaine's 'type'. It was as if this angel had appeared out of thin air and needed Blaine to guide him, which was perfect because it meant Blaine had an excuse to get close. But it was so imperfect because one wrong move could shatter the angel forever.

Blaine checked his phone again.

No new messages.

He let out a sigh and got up out of bed. Fantastic. Maybe he could still get to Dalton in time for second period. As he emerged from the bathroom, steam from his shower trailing him, he glanced again at his phone.

It was lighting up, and with it, so did Blaine's smile.

"Hello?" he answered, a tad too eagerly.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice on the other end was soft. "Hi, it's-"

"Kurt, hi," Blaine smiled into the phone and sat back down on the bed. Suddenly, he felt incredibly inappropriate talking to Kurt wearing nothing but a towel, but it wasn't as if Kurt _knew_ or anything.

"I have a problem."

"Anything I can help with?" Blaine asked.

"Well, the thing is that there's this dance coming up..."

Blaine's mind went fuzzy as he searched for a response. Yes, yes and _yes_?

"Sadie Hawkins, you know the drill," Kurt laughed. "Although I doubt they have girls' choice dances at an all-boys school."

So this wasn't an invitation. Huh.

"What's the problem?" Blaine managed to ask.

"Well, I need someone to shop with."

The words hung in line, heavy and weighted.

"For a tux," Kurt continued, as if Blaine was stupid. "I'm going with my best friend and while she's a fashionista in the best possible way, she knows El Zilcho about Armani. Think you could help me out?"

Blaine covered the receiver with his hand as he exhaled a shaky breath.

"Of course," Blaine ran a hand through his wet hair. "I'd be happy to help out a friend."

The final word hung in the line, too. Heavier and more weighted down than anything else. It felt like, in that one moment, Blaine had messed everything up. But Kurt just said thanks and hung up, leaving the morose beeping of the dial tone in Blaine's ear.

Great.

Reviews = love.


	2. Wherein Blaine and Kurt buy things

_So, get this. It's six thirty in the morning. I finished High School forever yesterday. Why am I awake? Because this story is consuming my mind. And, when I woke up this morning in a cold sweat (mild exaggeration) to see the sheer quantity of people who had read it (all of you had the same idea as me: watch the episode, spaz out, read some fanfic) I had to get out of bed and continue._

_Thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed. It means so much to me._

_Like all of you, I love Kurt. And in the words of Darren, I "want the good guy to win". Yes, you caught me. I've been a Darren Criss fan since AVPM. And now he's finally in a show that provides ample fanfic opportunities! *squee*_

_Thanks, guys. Really._

_X_

_Alice_

* * *

Chapter Two: Wherein Blaine and Kurt buy things

* * *

Kurt smoothed out his bangs for what felt like the millionth time. But it couldn't have been a million because he'd only been waiting outside his house for five minutes. But those five minutes had felt like an hour, so one couldn't blame him for exaggerating.

Ever since his dad took away his car (it was being fixed, this time. No Hope Chest discrimination) Kurt had needed a ride everywhere. Mostly from Mercedes, sometimes from Finn.

But this was altogether different.

For one, Blaine had never even _suggested_ that they meet up somewhere. He had very specifically asked "What time should _I pick you up_?"

That was a date thing, right? That was definitely a date thing.

But no. No, a million times no. That was impossible. Because to Blaine, Kurt was nothing more than a lonely little gay kid who needed a helping hand. Kurt was no confident enough. Not attractive enough. Not experienced enough...

Kurt was even tempted to think that he wasn't _talented_ enough, and his talent was his life.

Just as he was reaching for his hair for adjustment one-million-and-one, a blue BMW cruised around the corner. The driver was shielding his eyes from the sunny day with a pair of pink-rimmed sunglasses, which Kurt was a little so-so about. Pink, really? He may as well paste an upside-down triangle on his forehead.

But when the BMW stopped and Blaine got out, dressed to the nines in smart-casual (which Kurt always found very difficult to decipher), the sunglasses went from so-so to leaving Kurt as a melted puddle on his own front yard.

"Hey," Blaine smiled and immediately hugged Kurt, leaving the younger boy to awkwardly reciprocate with a pat on the back. After the hug, Blaine held Kurt out to arms length. "How are you?"

Kurt smiled an honest, wide smile. "I'm great."

And the hollow cavity in his chest didn't echo, and the ache was a little less.

* * *

Blaine hadn't wanted to mention it to Kurt on the phone, but he really knew very little about designer labels. He knew what looked good, what a well-cut suit _looked_ like, but apart from that he was almost completely in the dark. Thank goodness when Kurt said 'Armani' he'd been hyperbolic.

Kurt was travelling up and down the rack of jackets with his finger to his lips, thinking hard. Blaine was simply watching, happy that Kurt could find something that distracted him from everything in life that sucked.

The clothes, he meant. Not him.

While Kurt remained undecided, Blaine reached out a picket out a classic black blazer with a satin lapel.

"Try this one."

Kurt turned and looked at Blaine for a moment, mouth slightly open, like he wanted to say something. Instead, he wordlessly took the jacket and picked up the matching trousers and made his way to the dressing room, leaving Blaine to wait in the main area.

When Kurt stepped out, he was fiddling with the sleeves, and muttering to himself.

"The sleeves need to be shortened and the pants are just that smidge too long, but other than that it's great. Barely needs to be tailored. You have a good eye," Kurt said, seemingly to his sleeve.

"You look great," Blaine said assuredly, before he could stop himself. Kurt turned to look at him again, frowning only slightly. Blaine reached out and, in a motion that mirrored Kurt's visit to Dalton, smoothed out his collar.

There was silence as Kurt tried to fiddle with his sleeve some more, as if that would shorten them. Blaine just allowed himself to look. Kurt _did_ look great. But there was something missing.

"Tie," Blaine said out loud.

"Sorry?"

"You... you need a tie. You said Mercedes was wearing red?" he asked. Kurt nodded silently.

With a swift sweet of the tie rack, Blaine came across a simple red satin tie, the perfect compliment fabric for the jacket. Red, Blaine had always found, was a tricky colour. Because it was either on the orange side or on the blue side, and there was rarely an in between just lying around.

This tie was a perfect, rich, pure red. Against a blue tie, it looked red (most looked orange) and against the orange tie, it still retained its redness instead of slipping off into a more purple shade. Blaine took the red tie, and the orange one, off of the rack.

"This is for you," he lifted his left hand. "And this one," he held up the orange, "Is for making fun of."

Blaine draped the orange tie around his neck before reaching out to Kurt's collar. It did occur to him, in some distant part of his mind, that Kurt could tie his own tie and that he was only digging himself into a sexually-repressed hole with what he was doing. But mainly he was focusing on keeping his breathing steady. _Over, under, through_.

He pulled the tie up and flattened out Kurt's collar. Perfect.

Kurt was frozen like a statue, and looking down at the tie like it was incredible interesting. Blaine quickly tied his own, the garish orange one, and turned to face the mirror.

"God, this is a hideous tie," he murmured.

Kurt managed a laugh, turning to face the mirror as well.

"I look like a Wal Mart manager next to a GQ model," Blaine joked.

"Oh, shush," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Orange is just a horrendous colour unless it's done especially subtly."

"An orange _tie_?" Blaine laughed. "Really?"

At that moment, the salesman walked around and cast a withering glare at Blaine. Oh. Ha. The salesman was wearing an orange tie.

Blaine and Kurt exchanged glances before erupting into a fit of semi-muffled laughter.

* * *

"Kurt!" Mercedes called from the dressing room.

Kurt put down his magazine and stepped up. The women in line made a pathway, not caring that he was a boy.

"Sir, men can't enter the ladies dressing room," a sales assistant tried to warn him.

Kurt just waved her off and continued towards Mercedes' cubicle. When he opened the door, Mercedes was staring at herself in the mirror with a vague expression on her face that Kurt couldn't quite decipher.

"What do you think?" she turned to face him, and Kurt looked her up and down. The dress was quite nice. Not spectacular by any means. In fact, the red dress she had tried on a week ago was much nicer. Mercedes just had doubts about wearing it, thinking that it was too 'sexy'.

Kurt realised he could go two ways. He could say "the blue one" and Mercedes would be slightly more comfortable and a whole lot less fabulous. Or he could say "the red one" and Mercedes would be super fabulous, less comfortable, and Kurt could wear the red tie that made him feel enveloped in Blaine.

"Hmm," he said, deciding that Mercedes would get over it. "I like the red one better."

* * *

After Warbler's rehearsal, Blaine said goodbye to his friends. He went over to the other side of the hall and gathered up his things and got ready to go home. As he left the school and manoeuvred his way to the parking lot, he felt his phone buzz. He patted his pockets. And buzz. His jacket. And buzz. And stop. Damn it. A missed call.

It was Kurt, his number flashing sadly on the screen. A million profane words passed through Blaine's mind, before he saw that Kurt had left a message. That was good, right? A message was good.

_Hi Blaine, it'__s Kurt. I guess Warbler's rehearsal isn't finished yet... I just wanted to call and say thanks for yesterday. You helped a lot and I had fun, which I... really haven't had in a long time. So, really. Thank you. I'll see you around. –beep-_

Blaine smiled to himself and replaced the phone back in his jacket. Something told him that he would be making it his business to see Kurt around.

* * *

**Reviews = love. **

**If not love for me, then love for Kurt, for Blaine, for Darren and for Klaine.**


	3. He writes, you know

_So, I'm going out today, so I won't be updating for a bit (read as: until tomorrow). Yeah. I'm really that absorbed by this. A bit of a nothing chapter, but hopefully something will come out of it._

_x Alice_

**_P.S. The words that are written like -this- (as in, with dashes either side, have been crossed out)._**

* * *

Chapter Three: He writes, you know

* * *

The cafe smelled like roasted coffee beans and buttered banana bread. The combination of smells was sweet, rich, bitter and somewhat sickly, but Kurt enjoyed it. Mercedes dragged him to a table and they sat opposite each other on the plush seats. He smoothed his kilt down over his skinny jeans and waved over a waitress as Mercedes began to explain why she brought him here.

"I love this place," she said. "I mean, I'd only ever been here once or twice, but their coffee is insane and they have live entertainment every night."

Kurt glanced weakly over to the makeshift stage at the other end of the cafe. A mike and a stool were set up, but no one was performing.

"I look forward to sampling it," Kurt smiled at his friend before ordering a skinny cappuccino, please, one equal.

"Actually, Kurt, I wanted to talk to you about something," Mercedes began, looking down at the salt shaker in front of her. "About the dance."

"Hmm?" Kurt looked up at her, concerned. "What is it, sweetness?"

"Are you okay going with me? I mean, it's the first school dance since you really came out and I feel like maybe you should go with-"

Kurt laughed, interrupting her. "Go with _who_, Merce? Besides, it's Sadie Hawkins. When they say Girls' Choice, they don't mean Homo Choice."

He looked up at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Don't you want to go with me anymore?"

Mercedes was quick to correct herself, "No! I love you, Kurt, you know that. And you were _my _girls' choice, and until I can find someone to be my Romeo you will always be my first choice. Even then, maybe."

Kurt smiled. "So this is really about me? You're worried about my feelings?"

Mercedes offered a smile. "I just want you to be happy."

Kurt felt the hollow cave in his chest almost collapse when he said, "I am."

Mercedes offered him her hand across the table. He took it slowly, feeling the warmth of Mercedes' manicured and moisturized fingers in his palm. In the background, someone was sitting on the stage. Guitar strings were being plucked slowly, providing an ambience to Mercedes' caring stare.

Happiness. Was it possible to be back-breakingly lonely and happy at the same time? Was it possible to feel the crushing sadness and get glimpses of sunshine through the clouds? Mercedes was always there for him, always willing to lend a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on. And Kurt cried more than he cared to admit. So yes. Right here, right now, holding hands with Mercedes, Kurt _was_ happy. It wasn't a lie. Mostly.

"Good," her mouth puckered, like she was hiding a smile. Her glance fell over Kurt's shoulder, towards the stage.

"_You're a diamond that I'm afraid to touch..."_

The voice. Kurt's head whipped around and, sure enough, the person sitting on the stool, clutching a steel-string guitar, was someone all too familiar.

"_You're damn near flawless, and I'm sure you'd cut..."_

Blaine. Blaine. Blaine was here and he was singing in a completely raw environment with terrible acoustics and he still sounded like someone had plucked him from heaven. Kurt's face went bright red. Mercedes had planned this. She had _planned this_. His head turned back to Mercedes, and he frowned long and hard at her.

"I saw him here the other night, recognised him from your locker," she shrugged, sipping her coffee that had miraculously appeared on the table, along with Kurt's skinny-cappuccino-please-one-equal.

"Mercedes," Kurt tried to sound menacing, but his threatening voice was overshadowed by Blaine as he strummed his way to the chorus.

"_Didn't you know that all along, you didn't need to hear your song? And if you don't know that, well you might as well be dead."_

"Boy's got a voice," Mercedes commented, bobbing her head. "What did you say his name was, again?"

"I didn't," Kurt seethes, trying to breathe slowly to reduce his blush. "He's Blaine. He's from Dalton. He's one of the Warblers."

"Fraternising with the enemy, huh?" she asked. But she didn't sound judgemental, just joking curious. Her head continued to bob as Blaine's voice rose into a creamy falsetto.

"_You make me feel so alive..."_

"Damn," Mercedes pursed her lips and did a diva head-roll. "He's fine, he's talented. I don't see what the problem is."

"That's why you brought me here," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not going to work."

"_Didn't you know that all along, you didn't need to hear your song?"_

"I brought you here for a friendly chat, some great coffee and some nice entertainment," Mercedes said innocently, sipping the last drops of her caramel mocha. Kurt just stared into his coffee, watching the milk and espresso turn a dark creamy colour. The song stopped and there was scattered applause throughout the cafe.

Kurt was fully prepared to scull the remainder of his coffee and _get the hell out of here_, but was interrupted in his determined thoughts by the one person he didn't want to see. Or wanted to see so badly that it was making things even worse.

"Kurt?"

He looked up and Blaine was looking down at him with a smile on his face.

"Blaine, hey," Kurt tried to sound nonchalant. "Great song."

Blaine shrugged. "Thanks. It's an old one."

Mercedes spoke up. "You _wrote that_? Damn. I'm Mercedes, by the way."

"Blaine," Blaine pointed – rather unnecessarily, Kurt thought – to his chest. His broad chest. His perfect chest that looked so lovely draped in that cashmere sweater.

Mercedes murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh, I know" into her (empty) coffee mug, while Kurt tried to cough to cover it up.

"Do you want to join us?" Kurt thought of asking, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. Blaine shrugged and looked at the barista, who held up five fingers to him.

"I have five minutes," he replied, sitting down and immediately having a long black (Kurt repressed another mental chuckle) placed on the table by the waitress.

"Thanks, Jenna," Blaine smiled a million-watt grin at the waitress who tittered and walked away.

Kurt could feel something thrum in the hole in his chest. A heart? Impossible. He cleared his throat to cover up the sensation and turned to Blaine.

"So, you write songs, you perform at cafes and you flirt with waitresses," he let a smirk cross his lips as Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "What else don't I know about you?"

* * *

Blaine sat in his room.

Okay, a lie. He wasn't sitting. He was lying. On the floor. Staring at his ceiling with a notepad on his chest and a pen in his mouth. With a worried glance, he checked the time on the vintage clock on his wall.

It was two in the morning. He had been writing this song for five hours, ever since he had gotten home from the cafe.

Mercedes was lovely, and charming, and completely disarming. And she made Kurt smile, which made Blaine happy. Kurt had confided, while waiting outside for his cab (he refused Blaine's offer for a lift home, because they were going in opposite directions), that Mercedes was the only person who made him happy, present company excluded.

Direct quote. Kurt had said that Blaine made him happy.

That could mean one of two things:

One, Kurt was happy to know another gay boy in his age bracket, and that he was grateful for Blaine's help.

Or two, that Kurt wanted...

No, impossible.

Blaine lifted up his notepad and looked at the words he had scrawled on the page.

_-You are-_

_-I am-_

_My life is a -__hell hole- -__stage-_

_Series of actors changing places, except there's no -__stage-__ backstage and there's no place for -__you- -__us-__ me._

_I've got dinner on my plate, I got my paycheck -__today-__ yesterday. How great._

This was truly pathetic. It didn't make any sense, and the tune he had in his head was all minors and jazz and the chorus had no words but it was all happy-go-lucky. Even when he wrote _Muse_ (about his exboyfriend, which was never a pleasant experience) it wasn't this hard to come up with lyrics. Maybe it was because he wasn't sure about Kurt.

Or maybe it was because Kurt was indescribable.

Blaine got up off of his bedroom floor and climbed into bed, hoping to get a few hours of sleep in before school the next day. The notebook remained open and abandoned on his carpet, scrawled with words that made no sense.

* * *

**Reviews for this chapter send love to Chris Colfer who I stupidly left out of my last dedication. SORRY CHRIS.**


	4. I am not alone, I am not in love

_As promised, here is an update the very next day. I apologise in advance to the Will Schuester fans that I will most likely piss off in this chapter. But really, he's been such a tool lately._

_x_

_Alice_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Four: I am not alone, I am not in love

* * *

The choir room was buzzing with conversation. Finn and Rachel were arguing over duets, Sam and Quinn were murmuring to each other secretly in Little Blonde world, Puck and Santana were arguing over piercings (dos and don'ts were very important in terms of tongue studs), and Artie was trying to interject to impress Brittany. Of course, Mike and Tina were gossiping to each other, probably about Mike's abs or something Asian-y. Kurt was so uncouply it was painful.

To Mercedes' credit, she was trying to make conversation with him and Kurt was responding with nods and smiles at all the right intervals. But it wasn't the same. He loved Mercedes, but friendship and romance were two very different sides of the Love Spectrum. In his mind, Kurt tried to place Blaine on the Love Spectrum, but just picturing his face or name was enough to make his mind wander off course.

"Guys, guys, settle down," Mr Schuester had a big smile on his face as he handed out sheet music. A new set of songs, something he was excited about.

There was excited chattering amongst the choir as they stared at the pages, but when Kurt saw the two songs Schue had given them, he snorted back a laugh.

"Kurt, do you have something to say?" Schue asked somewhat indignantly in that teacher-way he probably thought was clever.

"_Baby, it's Cold Outside_ is a date-rape song," Kurt shrugged. "And while I don't have a problem with Katy Perry, the Warblers are masters of _Teenage Dream_ and there's no way we could be as good."

Silence in the choir room, stunned and heavy.

Then, suddenly, the questions and accusations fired off at once, from all directions.

"How is it about _date rape_?"

"What are Warblers?"

"It's a classic!"

"We could _so_ be as good."

Kurt just shrugged to himself, too drained of emotional energy to care about how they took his opinion. Mr Schuester didn't look angry, though. Just somewhat amused.

"How do you know what the Dalton Warblers are singing?"

Kurt could feel eyes on him, curious. Mercedes had looked away from his face at that moment, obviously concerned about whether she should back him up or let him handle it.

"I went to Dalton to spy before the last Girl-Boy challenge," he explained. "I saw the Warblers. They're... incredible."

"Now who's a date rapist?" Puck joked from the corner.

Kurt simply rolled his eyes. "Of all the Christmas-themed songs one could pick, you picked _Baby, it's Cold Outside_? Really, Mr Schue? No offense, but at the risk of sounding like a prude, you've been giving us more and more risqué songs lately, and I don't know how I feel about it."

This was something Kurt hadn't realised he'd had a problem with until the words were out of his mouth.

"Kurt, I..." Schue looked confused.

"I just want to know how we went from _Defying Gravity_ and _Don't Stop Believin'_ to having a teacher play a shirtless character in the school musical and songs about date rape," Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, looking at his nails.

More rabbling in the class, people yelling things or agreeing with him. Schue just looked shocked, but Kurt was past the point of caring. Truth be told, Schue's attitude to Kurt's problems over the past few weeks had been less than favourable, and Kurt was sick of being overlooked. Didn't his opinions mean anything?

"Kurt, maybe we should talk about this later," Schue did that puppy-dog eyebrow thing that _so_ did not work on anyone any more. Kurt just sighed and looked at his nails.

"Whatever."

"And we are _so_ going to trash the Warblers!" Artie added determinedly, seemingly unable to get past the fact that Kurt had pointed out the Dalton awesomeness.

"Really, Kurt," Rachel said curtly, "They're an all-boy's school. What do they have that we don't have?"

In his head, Kurt thought Blaine's name very loudly. No way could a female rendition of _Teenage Dream_ by Rachel be half as inspired as Blaine's all-boy a cappella arrangement.

Out loud, however, he shrugged and murmured "Talent?" under his breath very softly, before checking his watch and folding the sheet music tightly, placing it in his bag as the bell rang for the end of the day.

He was the first one out of the choir room.

Home, unfortunately, wasn't much better. Kurt's dad was still off his feet from the heart-attack, and was spending every minute of the day watching game-show reruns. This meant that he was uncharacteristically interested in how Kurt's day went, and asked about it every day after school.

Usually, Kurt would just nod and smile and say "good, dad. Good. Did you eat your soup?"

But the first thing Burt Hummel said when Kurt entered the door was not, "Kurt! How was your day?"

No. It was four much more interesting words.

"You have a message."

Kurt glanced at his father, the "good, dad. Good" hanging on his lips, unmoving and silent.

"A message? From who?"

"Some kid named Blaine. Said he couldn't reach your cell."

Kurt checked his mobile phone. It was out of battery. Damn.

"Oh. Thanks for telling me, dad."

"Is there..."

Kurt spared a glance at his dad, who clearly looked curious and concerned.

"Is there something you should know?" Kurt finished for his father, who simply nodded, thankful for the assistance in the broaching of a tender subject. When you didn't love the fact that your kid was gay, the idea of his gayness was probably uncomfortable.

"You know what, dad?" Kurt sighed. "When I find out, you'll be the first to know."

* * *

One of the good things about going to Dalton (minus the awesome friends, the no-tolerance-for-gay-bashing policy, and the fact that everyone liked him) was the uniform.

It wasn't a particularly stylish uniform, but as uniforms went it was decent. It fit properly and it saved time in the mornings for getting other things ready.

Or, as the case proved this morning, for struggling to write a song.

Blaine had managed to write a million love songs and not include the word 'love' in them. And it was so stupid that the word 'love' was scribbled on the page when he was so _not_ in love with Kurt. While it was true that there was something there, it was not love. Not yet, anyway. And yet the word was so approachable that it was scary.

'Love' was a word he steered clear of for a few reasons.

One, it was highly impractical rhyme-wise. 'Above' and 'dove' were pretty much his only options. Which was a stupid thing to even think about when the whole 'not in love' thing had already been discussed. And the song he was halfway through writing (halfway in the way that it had no chorus, yet) didn't rhyme much at all.

Two, it had been used so many times. _Love_ was a word almost completely devoid of meaning because while it used to mean something, people said 'I love you' all the time nowadays. Even to people they hated. When The Beatles wrote 'All you need is love', they probably didn't mean 'All you need is some kind of relationship'.

Then again, the love that The Beatles wrote about wasn't being _in_ love. It was loving mankind, loving life, loving yourself.

Blaine stared at the page.

_Love love love love love love love_

In his head, the word didn't even sound right anymore. It sounded like 'luve', or 'lowv'. It looked stupid in his signature scrawl where the _l_ was way lower than the _o_.

Stupid. That's what this whole thing was. Stupid.

Furthermore, why hadn't Kurt called him back? Last night he had left a message with Kurt's father, who hadn't sounded so pleased, but he was sure he would give the message on and that Kurt would call.

The clock chimed eight o'clock. Blaine shrugged on his blazer, combed his hair once for good measure, and left his bedroom. The notebook stayed immobile, with _love_ scribbled on it, on his desk.

* * *

"Kurt?"

Miss Pillsbury really looked terrified, like a rabbit caught in a vegetable garden. It took Kurt a second to register that she had said his name, or that her wide-eyed stare was her normal expression and not a signifier for total shock.

"Yes, Miss Pillsbury?"

"I'd like to see you in my office, if you don't mind."

Miss Pillsbury's office was a place Kurt hadn't been very often. This struck him as sort of ironic because if anyone at this school needed guidance or counselling, it was most likely him. Although, with the Karofsky development, maybe there were a few people who needed it more.

"Can I ask what this is about?" Kurt queried, crossing his legs over one another and staring Miss Pillsbury down.

"Actually, Mister Schuester asked me to talk to you."

Kurt suppressed a snort. "Too scared to confront me himself?"

"No, no, that's not it. Kurt, we think you're in a very... difficult place right now. You're the only gay student at-"

"The only _openly_ gay student at McKinley," Kurt corrected her pre-emptively.

"Right. Well, I know it must be lonely and frustrating."

"With all due respect, Miss Pillsbury," Kurt said, thinking to himself that the amount of respect due was not a lot, "You don't know anything about me."

Her eyes, if possible, went even wider.

"Yes, it is frustrating to be the only person here with enough _courage_ to be myself. And it's even more frustrating that not one person of authority gives enough of a damn to stop be being tormented every single day. It's frustrating that the dance this semester is Sadie Hawkins, which completely excludes me. And it's frustrating that I have to explain this to you."

Miss Pillsbury adjusted the pamphlets on her desk so that they were perfectly parallel, a motion to which Kurt replied by standing up out of his seat.

"But I can assure you, _Emma_," he said her name, which he thought was a nice touch. "I am not alone."

On a scale of Awesome Dramatic Exists, Kurt would have given himself a nine out of ten, if only because he didn't use any fiercely whispered swear-words.

As soon as he was out her office, he reached immediately for his phone and called Blaine.

"I need to talk to you. I know it's the middle of a school day, it's just... yeah. I'll meet you there."

He hung up and placed his phone back in his bag before marching out the school's front door. It said a lot that nobody even tried to stop him.

* * *

**Because of Kurt's badassness this chapter, reviews send love to anyone, anywhere, with the enough courage to be themselves.**


	5. I've seen you crying

_We all know Blaine/Darren is a Nerdfighter. Let's not kid ourselves._

_Also, spoilers indicate that Kurt will transfer to Dalton, and that_ Baby, it's Cold Outside _is "an attempt to seduce Kurt" by Blaine. AS IF HE NEEDS TO TRY. GOD._

_x_

_Alice_

_P.S. Also, short chapter. But that's the price you pay for two updates a day._

* * *

Chapter Five: I've seen you crying

* * *

Blaine was already there when Kurt showed up at the cafe. He was decked from head to toe in Dalton uniform, a coffee in front of him and reading a book. His hair was falling a little bit out of place in a way that made Kurt want to reach and push it back. That was irritating. The feeling, not Blaine's hair. His crush on Blaine was getting out of hand, really. And besides, he wasn't here for that.

Blaine looked up when Kurt arrived and placed his book to the side, something called _Looking for Alaska_. Kurt sat down silently and Blaine cocked his head to the side, looking somewhat expectant in a totally hot way.

"I was called into the Guidance Counsellor's office just then," Kurt began. Blaine nodded, a signal Kurt took as a gesture to continue.

"She had the nerve to tell me how lonely I was," Kurt looked away at that moment.

"What did you do?" Blaine asked.

"I told her that I wasn't alone," Kurt laughed mirthlessly to himself. "But I don't know how true that is."

Jenna, the waitress Kurt recognised from Blaine's performance a few days before, came up and asked him if he wanted anything. He ordered, and as she went off there was silence. Kurt didn't know what to think about the pause, and was just about to say something like 'it's stupid' when Blaine spoke up.

"There's a difference between being alone and being lonely, Kurt," Blaine said seriously, looking at Kurt from under dark eyelashes. "They're not co-dependent."

Kurt felt the hollow cavity in his chest flicker. Blaine was right. Blaine was totally right. Why didn't it make him feel any better?

"I've been alone, lonely. And it's a dark, dark hole," Blaine admitted. "The world is a terribly shitty place sometimes. It's undeniable."

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better," Kurt said sarcastically, trying to smile.

Blaine didn't flinch, though. He leaned forward and looked Kurt right in the eyes.

Blaine's eyes – like everything else about him – were perfect. They were bright hazel, flecked with gold and green. And their expression right that second was incredibly serious and penetrating, shattering Kurt's resolve. He could feel himself about to cry, which was so not cool. The amount of times he'd cried in front of Blaine was too embarrassing to think about.

"The point I'm trying to make," Blaine said, his eyes still locked with Kurt's, "is that you did something great today. You expressed yourself. And in the end, that's the most important thing you can do. You have to like yourself, Kurt, because no matter how lonely it gets, you always, _always_ have to deal with yourself. He's the one person you can't avoid."

When Kurt didn't reply, Blaine continued, "And don't be so hard on your Guidance Counsellor. She probably just wants to help. It's not her fault that she can't, okay?"

Kurt nodded, blinking back tears. It was true that the way he went off at Miss Pillsbury was a bit rash. But Mr Schuester just got to him, and he found it hard to separate one teacher from another in his mind. As if on cue, his coffee arrived, steaming in front of him like breath in winter.

"And for what it's worth," Blaine continued, "You're not alone."

The hole in Kurt's chest flickered again, his imaginary heart skipping an imaginary beat.

"I'm not?"

"You're here, with me, and unlike a lot of other people, I can honestly say that I understand."

Kurt felt one hot tear fall down his cheek, which Blaine promptly reached forward and wiped away with his thumb.

"You're always a great help, you know," Kurt told him honestly, turning his gaze to his coffee. His cheek blazed where Blaine had touched it, and he fought a blush.

"Actually, I think you've helped me a lot today," Blaine replied, a smile crossing his face.

"Really?"

"I've been struggling to write this song," Blaine explained. "And while I know I have to finish it at some point, because it's important, this conversation has inspired a new one."

He then started humming a prospective tune, which made Kurt smile. It wasn't very often he met someone so absorbed by music, and it was really and truly something great to see. Kurt then sipped his coffee gleefully, and Blaine copied the motion, sipping from his cup, too

"Ugh," he grimaced, glaring at the cup.

"What's wrong with it?" Kurt asked. They really did do great coffee here, like Mercedes said.

"It's ice cold," Blaine admitted. Kurt laughed.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Blaine looked at his watch for effect, before replying, "Oh, since about eight this morning."

* * *

The first thing Blaine did when he got home (at one in the afternoon, two and half hours earlier than he should, which neither of his parents seemed to mind) was head to his room, get his guitar and notebook and write down the new song.

It was still a song about Kurt, so that made him feel less terrible about temporarily abandoning the chorus-less song he had been writing to begin with. But when he grabbed his notebook and saw the word love written over and over again it made his mood drop. He flicked over the page, where the latest verse was written...

_One more question, how is this one big lesson? ..._

He sighed and turned the page over a few times so that he had a clean slate before he started from scratch. That was important. He couldn't overlap the two songs because he was going to finish the first when he figured out how. To begin, in big letters at the top, he wrote the title.

_Not Alone_

The song was wonderful in the way that it pretty much wrote itself. The tune was already figured out and the lyrics were just so one hundred per cent true in every possible way. It was lovely. He still struggled around the L word a little bit, but came to a compromise with himself and the urge to write down the four letter word again.

The problem, he reasoned, was that the original song was such a mishmash of feelings. It was built on his own feelings, his prospective feelings, his pre-emptive feelings.

_Not Alone_ was about one thing. Loneliness. And overcoming loneliness. He sang it to himself as he wrote, smiles creeping onto his face as he figured out chords and lyrics and bridges. This is what all song writing should feel like, he told himself. It should be this easy.

But things in life aren't always easy, were they?

No, Blaine's life hadn't been all raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. And yes, parts of life suck. But that, he figured, was the great thing about music. Music was the purest expression of absolutely anything. Happiness, sadness, loss, loneliness...

Love, even. Even that dreaded four letter word.

Blaine smiled down at the notebook and then glanced at the clock. It was five o'clock. Well, at least he could check 'Write A Meaningful Song in Under Four Hours' off of his Life checklist.

* * *

When Emma Pillsbury got home that evening, there was a card taped to her door.

_Sorry about today. I wasn't very nice. But I think there's someone who needs your help more than I do._

Emma's eyes went wide as she read the name _Dave Karofsky_, underlined several times. Underneath, Kurt Hummel's signature was scribbled and smudged. She sighed, pleased with herself, and stepped inside from the brisk evening.

* * *

**Reviews from this chapter send love to Darren Criss' music for being totally awesome.**


	6. Wherein plans are made, cars are keyed

_Sorry if the letter to Emma threw a few of you off. I just want to broach the Karofsky thing because it's really necessary._

_x_  
_Alice_

_P.S. This is technically my third update today. You guys should be bowing at my feet! But seriously, I may slow down when it comes to updating soon. Please don't be upset._

* * *

Chapter Six: Wherein plans are made and cars are keyed

* * *

The weather was getting steadily colder, which meant that Kurt had wrapped himself in his favourite Marc Jacobs scarf and was walking down the hall with a little bit more zip in his step than usual. Courage, maybe. Perhaps Blaine was rubbing off on him.

Blaine rubbing on him. Lovely imagery.

Kurt suppressed a blush and a smile as he reached his history class. He was about to turn in to the classroom when he heard a familiar high-pitched voice say his name.

"Kurt!" Miss Pillsbury called.

Kurt groaned internally. When he had left the note at his teacher's house the night before (he discovered her address via Puck, who, it turned out, knew the address of every single staff member at McKinley) he had been hoping for it to put an end to the nonsense. But she didn't look ready to lecture him. Instead, she looked as pleased and chipper as Kurt had previously felt.

"Yes, Miss Pillsbury?"

"I take it we're no longer on a first-name basis?" she replied. The tone was joking, but with a teacher's calculated iciness. Ouch.

"I'm sorry, Miss Pillsbury, I was really _not_ in a good mood, and-"

"I don't need an explanation, Kurt. I'm here to give you good news."

Kurt raised his eyebrows and let out a sceptical "Oh?" but Miss Pillsbury's good mood was undeterred.

"For one," she began, "I've scheduled an appointment with mister Karofsky. But he seems like a tough nut to crack, so you're going to have to give me some time."

"As long as he gets the help he needs, I don't care," Kurt shrugged, feeling the anger rise in his throat like bile. He wanted Karofsky to get help, sure. But he didn't care about the Neanderthal. He could rot away in his pestilent closet for all Kurt cared.

"The second thing was that I talked to the principal about the Sadie Hawkins dance."

Kurt's face went pale. She remembered? She remembered that one thing on his very long list of things? Perhaps some adults weren't so dense.

"And," she continued, "I told him that as this is a public school there is really no rule against a same sex couple going to the dance together. I cited past cases in the state, and he agreed that there's no reason you shouldn't be able to bring your boyfriend."

Kurt laughed. "I think you misunderstood, Miss Pillsbury. I don't _have _a boyfriend." When she looked upset, he added, "But thank you. So much. For everything. You're the only teacher here who seems to genuinely care..."

Miss Pillsbury just smiled and let Kurt go to class, where he learnt about the French Revolution.

Viva La Resistance!

* * *

"Dude, you okay?"

Blaine looked up from his notebook to face his friend, Charlie. Charlie was looking down at him with a frown he usually saved for solving math problems, like Blaine was difficult to figure out.

"I'm fine. Just distracted," Blaine admitted, tapping his pen. _Not Alone_ was all done, unless you counted a few glitches. He could hear the harmonies in his head and just needed to write them out. It was this song, this nameless, chorusless song that was giving him grief.

Charlie nodded, as if he wasn't quite convinced, but didn't bring it up again.

"A bunch of us are going to the movies tonight," Charlie smiled a row of white teeth at Blaine, and Blaine's mind travelled back to the beginning of the year when Charlie had had braces. Sometimes, when you're used to seeing someone one way, it takes a lot to unsee them. "You in?"

Blaine looked at his notebook, then back up to Charlie's smiling face.

"I've got plans," Blaine said. "But thanks."

The truth was that he didn't have plans. Not yet, anyway. But if he was ever going to finish the song then he needed more time with the subject. When Charlie had left the choir room, Blaine pulled out his phone and waited while it rang three times before being answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said happily.

"Blaine! Hey, what's up?"

"I was thinking that this week has been very dramatic," Blaine stood up from his chair and began walking towards the exit. "And we haven't hung out without tears being involved."

"Well I'm sorry about that..."

Blaine laughed quickly, "Trying to make a joke, Kurt. Trying to make plans. Like, say, dinner? Tonight?"

A pause on the other line. "I can't really leave my dad at home alone. His girlfriend's out of town 'til Monday..."

"Perfect! I know your address. I will come over and make dinner for you and your lovely father."

To Blaine, this was a perfectly normal suggestion. He liked to cook, he was good at it, and he felt as if tonight was the night for chorus-writing. He needed some inspiration. Unfortunately, the silence on the other end of the line made him think that to Kurt, this was an abnormal suggestion.

"You..." Kurt began. "You can't..."

"I can't what?" Blaine asked slowly.

"You can't cook anything with too much salt. Or grease. Or anything heart-attack-inducing," Kurt finished.

Blaine laughed as he strolled through the parking lot towards his car. He could still feel Kurt's uneasiness, even through the phone line, and decided to broach it.

"Is that weird? If I come over and make you guys dinner? I mean, I just wanted to see you and..."

"No, it's not _that _weird. It's just going to take some time to convince my dad that you're not my lover and that we're not planning on eloping to Canada."

"We wouldn't have to go to Canada," Blaine joked. "California is lovely, too."

Kurt laughed weakly on the other end and that's when Blaine realised that this wasn't just a conversation.

He was flirting with Kurt. _Phone_ flirting, the most despicable of all flirting techniques. And it was making Kurt uncomfortable. Well, Blaine reasoned with himself, of course it made him uncomfortable. The last boy to show any interest in him is a closeted brute and Blaine probably wasn't even Kurt's type. He probably liked people who knew more about Armani or whatever. No wonder Kurt was uncomfortable.

"I'll see you at six thirty," Blaine said as way of good-bye, before hanging up and staring down at his car door.

In big letters, keyed into the paint viciously, was one word.

_FAG_

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "Shit."

* * *

"Dad," Kurt called into the living room gently, not wanting to wake his father if he had fallen asleep in front of Wheel of Fortune again. But his father responded quickly, if not gruffly.

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"You have a special surprise tonight," was the line Kurt had thought up to explain Blaine's presence. The general idea was that if Burt thought it was for him and not for anyone else (like his sexually deprived son) then he wouldn't flip out. However, when the words came out of his mouth, they tasted bad and Kurt didn't know why.

"What surprise?" Burt asked cautiously, turning away from the screen to face his son.

"I told my friend that you were getting bored with my soup, so he offered to come over and cook you something healthy and delicious."

Yeah. Like that really sounded any better than "he offered to come over and do terrible things and then take me to Canada to get married."

"I love your soup!" Burt exclaimed, though it was a total lie. Kurt's soup was flavourless and bland, but he couldn't help it. When most of the yummy things in life can kill you, it's hard to cook a meal that has none in it.

Kurt thought he had almost gotten away with it, before Burt asked the dreaded question...

"Which friend?"

"You don't know him. Although, I guess you do. He called and left me that message a couple of days ago."

"Blaine," Burt grumbled, as if he'd memorised the name specifically to make it sound so horrid coming from his mouth.

"Yes, Blaine."

"I don't trust the kid."

Kurt laughed, "You don't even _know_ the kid. He's top of his Junior class-"

"So he's _older_ than you?"

"By a year, dad. And why does that matter?"

Burt just mumbled something incomprehensible before turning back to the television screen. Kurt knew, in that moment, that his father wouldn't fight him. He just wondered if Blaine knew what hell he was putting Kurt through with all this.

Was he a friend? Was he a mentor? Was he a prospective... something more? Kurt was at a loss for words because one minute Blaine was all _let's elope to California_ and _I want to cook you dinner_ and then he could switch to Mentor Mode and become the serious teacher-y guy who didn't look like he wanted anything more than to have a successful student. Kurt sighed to himself and retreated to his basement bedroom until Blaine would arrive.

And tonight, he was determined to get a straight answer. No pun intended.

* * *

**Reviews = love**

**Love for me, love for this story, love for all reviewers**

**(Can you tell that I'm running out of dedications?)**


	7. Baby, you'll freeze out there

_Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews. Reading them makes my day, so thank you so much._

_Also, I should clarify that when I said 'spoilers indicate' I meant 'there are pictures, and songs, and I'm very much 100% sure that Kurt is going to Dalton'._

_x_

_Alice_

* * *

Chapter Seven: Baby, you'll freeze out there

* * *

It was almost six thirty on the dot when Kurt heard a car pull up to his driveway. Resisting the urge to run out and greet Blaine, Kurt instead walked calmly to the door and stepped outside. The cold night air made his gasp burn his throat as his eyes fell on the side of Blaine's car.

Goddamn it.

"What happened?" he asked in a voice that seemed far too panicked.

Blaine stepped out of the car looking calm, if not a little perturbed. He was carrying a few groceries bags and just shrugged (which is something he seemed to do a lot) and clicked the button on his keys to lock the BMW's doors. The car beeped, its lights flickering, casting angry shadows over the keyed letters.

"Never mind," Blaine waved it off as he got closer. "Don't worry about it."

But Kurt _was_ worrying about it. He could feel the tears start pricking at the back of his eyes, as they so often did lately, and even as Blaine ushered him out from the cold, he turned his head to see the word again.

Tears were replaced by anger.

God. Fucking. DAMN IT.

As they were in the entrance hallway, Kurt felt Blaine's hands on his arms. Blaine started rubbing his arms up and down and was assuring him that "It's okay, really. Calm down." He took a deep breath and forced himself to, but the anger still bubbled in his stomach.

Kurt nodded, unable to form a coherent response, and led Blaine to the kitchen.

"Here's the kitchen, so I guess this'll be where the magic happens and _someone keyed your car_," Kurt put his hands up and covered his face. It was too unbelievable that this would have happened to Blaine and not to, oh say, himself.

"Kurt," Blaine began calmly, "It took me the whole drive over here and a few times around your block to calm myself down about that. So I'd appreciate it if maybe you could freak out a little bit less."

"They keyed _fag_ into your car," Kurt looked at him seriously, looking deep into his perfect gold-green flecked eyes for some kind of response.

Then, Blaine shrugged again. "I am a fag."

Kurt folded his arms and frowned in reply, feeling the anger in his stomach surge for a second before quieting down to a dull ebb.

"It's a slur. It's rude."

"We have this thing in the world," Blaine began unpacking the groceries, as if he didn't even care that he had just used the _f_ word to describe himself, "where you're insulted for _what_ you are instead of _who_ you are. Calling me a fag is just like saying, 'Hey dude, you like other dudes' which I don't have a problem with."

When Kurt didn't respond, Blaine laughed and turned to him with his shoulders raised in that highly irritating shrugging motion. "I'm more pissed that they screwed up my paint job."

Kurt's breaths had turned shallow. How could Blaine be so aloof about this? Kurt just stood beside him in the kitchen with his mouth slightly open. Un. Be. Lievable.

Soon, Blaine finished unpacking and Kurt was still standing there, just staring at him like he was this impervious soldier. If someone had done something like that to Kurt? He would have flipped out, grabbed a crowbar and gone to town on whoever did it. Or, rather, he would have _wanted_ to do that and instead sat in his room, crying, listening to the _Les Miserables_ soundtrack on vinyl.

But Blaine just turned to him and reached out to his chin, propping it back up to meet the rest of his face.

"Now," he said calmly, "Are you going to introduce me to your father?"

Kurt blinked several times before nodding and leading Blaine out of the kitchen and towards the living room. As they walked Kurt wished he had vacuumed, wished the wallpaper wasn't peeling, wished that the house was just _nicer_ because it was _Blaine_.

That, of course, led to another startling revelation. Blaine was in his house. In his _house_. Apart from Finn (who really didn't count) Kurt had never brought a boy home... not that this counted, either. It most certainly didn't count. But the thought of it happening still sent a tremor through Kurt's body, and he had to physically calm himself before entering the living room.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"This is Blaine."

Burt turned around from the television instantly and locked eyes with the Dalton boy. Blaine was smooth, though, and walked around the couch to face Burt and held out his hand.

"It's good to meet you, mister Hummel. How are you feeling?"

Burt shook hands with Blaine slowly, cautiously.

"Fine, thanks," Burt replied in the same way.

"Well, tonight I was thinking I would make you barbecue chicken," he smiled at the Hummels' surprise before adding, "It's a special cholesterol-free recipe I made for my grandpa after _his_ heart attack."

Kurt just smiled from the corner and Burt nodded. "I love barbecue chicken."

Blaine smiled hugely, beaming, "Great. Well, I'll just get to it, then."

On the way back to the kitchen, he called, "Thanks for having me, by the way!" down the hall.

There was silence in the living room, interrupted only by the distant sounds of pots and pans clacking in the kitchen. Burt Hummel turned to his son slowly.

"I like him."

Kurt, wanting to seem as aloof as possible, just channelled Blaine.

He shrugged.

* * *

It was prepared. All Blaine had to do was baste occasionally and then it should be ready in about thirty minutes. Pleased with himself, he leaned against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. It was imperative that he stayed calm and collected tonight. Tonight was about getting to know Kurt, and writing the chorus and just making things better.

In Blaine's mind, the only negative thing in his life was the chorus. He needed it more than he needed to repaint his car or find out who keyed it in the first place (though, he had a couple of ideas who might have done it...)

The chorus was everything.

"How much longer?"

Blaine jumped at the sound of Kurt's voice from behind him, before answering, "About half an hour. We've got time to spare."

The good thing was that Kurt had calmed down. He really thought that Kurt was going to hyperventilate earlier, which would not have been fun. And sure, Blaine was pissed off, but it had taken him a long time to get away from all that bullshit. He wasn't going to let one reversion back to being bullied get the better of him.

What did get the better of him was when Kurt took his arm and led him through the hall and down a set of stairs to what appeared to be the basement.

"Where are we going?" he asked slowly as they descended the staircase. Kurt just said 'my room' very succinctly which made it seem like there was no going back and no asking questions.

As soon as they entered the room, Blaine could sense Kurt's hesitance. He had clearly brought Blaine down here to talk about something, but he was very obviously lacking the confidence to do it. But Blaine shrugged to himself mentally and wandered around the room, making small comments of approval.

It was almost a whole two minutes before he came across the sheet music on Kurt's chair.

"_Baby, It's Cold Outside_?" Blaine asked slowly, holding up the sheet music.

"It's for Glee," Kurt defended, holding up his hands, "I do not condone date rape."

Blaine frowned and smiled at the same time.

"This isn't a song about date rape, Kurt," he held up the sheet music in Kurt's direction for emphasis. "It's a song about reluctance and persuasion and forbidden love and want. This," he held it up again, "is a classic."

Kurt looked ready to disagree, but his face totally changed when Blaine started singing the song to himself...

"Baby it's cold outside," he sang slowly. "Been hoping that you'd drop in..."

The song, in truth, was Blaine's favourite Christmas-time song. He wasn't sure if he believed in god, and the spirit of Christmas was all well and good, but he loved cold weather. Not for its coldness, but rather for its opportunities to stay _indoors_. That's why he liked the song.

Soon, he and Kurt were singing the song softly, without accompaniment, as Blaine wandered around the room and observed.

"My father will be pacing the floor," Kurt pointed upstairs.

Blaine laughed, missing a line, before singing, "Beautiful, what's your hurry?"

Kurt turned, at that point, a delicious shade of pink that made Blaine feel a little bit guilty. But, in a way, it was a sign. Kurt maybe liked him. _Like_ liked him. And the thought of that was enough to inspire the line _'Doesn't it seem like that should be enough?'_ to the already decided tune of the mystery-chorus. Halfway there.

The next step to finishing the song became obvious.

"Mind if I move closer?" Blaine sang, taking the few steps that distanced him and Kurt.

"Blaine, I really..." Kurt wasn't singing anymore.

"What's the sense in hurting my pride?" Blaine sang softly, closing the gap even more. Kurt was staring up at him with huge eyes.

"Blaine..."

"Baby, don't hold out," Blaine nearly whispered in tune, his eyes moving down to look at Kurt's lips.

Kurt's head tilted up, which was the opposite of what he would do if this wasn't what he wanted. Kurt wanted this as much as Blaine did. At this thought, Blaine reached out and gently touched Kurt's jawline. He was prepared to sing the next line, but it was intercepted by Kurt.

"Man, your lips look delicious," Kurt sang softly, before closing the distance between them and pressing his lips on Blaine's.

Thrilling warmth spread through Blaine's body as he realised that this was the perfect first kiss, the absolute perfect first kiss. His lips parted as he deepened it, his hand moving slowly to cup the back of Kurt's head to bring him closer. Kurt tasted sweet and light and it was like time stopped, silence and noise becoming one to envelope them.

Kurt broke away after a few seconds and looked up at Blaine, his eyes brimming with emotion.

"I kissed you," he said matter-of-factly.

"You did."

"And you kissed me back."

"I did."

"I wish," Kurt looked away for a second before his eyes moved back to lock with Blaine's, "I wish that was my first kiss."

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed and he smiled. "But it was _our_ first kiss. As far as I'm concerned, this is _my_ first kiss that's counted."

* * *

Kurt had learned three things that night.

One; _Baby, It's Cold Outside_? Not about date rape.

Two; Brittany had been wrong about what kissing a boy tasted like. Kissing Blaine was certainly not like kissing an armpit.

Three; Kurt had a heart, because within that hollow cavity in his chest something grew and pounded and thudded every time Blaine looked at him. It had to be a heart, because it was that feeling that kept him alive.

* * *

Blaine learned that 'enough' could rhyme with 'love' if you sang it a certain way.

* * *

**Reviews from this chapter send love to everyone who's never been kissed.**


	8. Genuine happiness, please

_I'm trying to zoom through this story as quickly as possible because I know that if I leave it too long people will lose interest. So here's the next chapter! YAH!_

_x_

_Alice_

_P.S. Sorry, I know it's short. And there's, like, not Klaine interaction. BUT BEAR WITH ME._

_

* * *

_

Chapter Eight: Genuine happiness, please

* * *

Kurt Hummel was not a naturally peppy person. However, when on stage, he exuded pure energy, and in life he tried very hard to be optimistic. It was with this optimism that he was able to shake off bullies and still show up every morning impeccably dressed and ready to be himself.

Still, being peppy wasn't something one usually associated with Kurt Hummel.

Which is why that morning – a _Monday_ morning, no less – was so surprising. Because Kurt was peppy.

No, scratch that.

Kurt was genuinely happy. Happiness was way more important than peppiness. And, for once, when Kurt went to find that hollow cavity in his chest he was sure it wasn't hollow any more. It was filled to the brim with a beating heart, pumping blood throughout his body.

He was happy, he was alive.

And, no point in lying, it was because of Blaine. He and Blaine had stayed together all weekend while Finn and Carole were away together. Blaine cooked dinner for Burt every night before taking the forty-five minute drive back to his place, which was halfway between Dalton Academy and Kurt's house. Blaine was just...

Perfect. But in that perfectly imperfect way that really made Kurt so happy, and so fulfilled and just so _peppy_.

"Kurt!"

With a smile, he went up and greeted Mercedes with a hug, a kiss on the cheek and a casual arm link.

"You're happy," she observed.

"You noticed?" Kurt batted his eyelashes jokingly.

"Blaine?"

"Blaine."

Mercedes squealed excitedly and hugged onto Kurt's arm tightly. A thought crossed Kurt's mind at that moment as he felt Mercedes' warmth around him. Not everyone was going to be this thrilled. His few friends in Glee weren't going to be excited about him dating a Warbler.

Dating. Was that even the right word? It felt so stupid because they'd never even been on a date.

And they hadn't done anything more than kissing.

It turned out that kissing? Yeah, it's fantastic. And Kurt loved kissing because every time he kissed Blaine it felt just as great as the first time they kissed and his insides went all melty and it was incredible.

"I have precalc," Mercedes shuddered. "But we'll meet up at lunch and you'll give me all the dishy details, right?"

"Of course," Kurt smiled, waving his friend off to class gleefully.

As he turned towards his locker he locked eyes with Karofsky down the hall. The brute frowned at him before turning in to Miss Pillsbury's office, closing the door hard behind him. At least, Kurt reasoned, he was getting some kind of therapy.

But Karofsky's glare did very little to deter Kurt's good mood, and he found himself humming as he closed his locker. It was only when he saw the face _behind_ the locker that his mood was instantly brought down.

"Hey, pussy," Azimio glared down at him from his hulking mass of footballer height.

"Azimio," Kurt tried to nod him away and walk off, but the bigger boy was having none of it.

"You the reason my boy Karofsky is with the freak?" he asked darkly.

"He's seeing Miss Pillsbury because he's seriously messed up," Kurt said seriously. "Maybe if you were a better friend he wouldn't need professional help."

Azimio slammed his fist into the locker hard, causing Kurt to flinch.

"Maybe next time I'll skip the car and go straight for your boyfriend," he threatened. "Because nobody messes with us. Nobody."

Kurt waited while Azimio walked away and rounded the corner, and only breathed properly once the Neanderthal was out of sight. As soon as the coast was clear, he pulled out his phone.

_To: Blaine_

_found out who messed up ur car. Karofsky's friend_.

Almost instantly, the reply came.

_From: Blaine_

_Huh. Interesting._

Kurt just rolled his eyes. Blaine was always like that, very dapper and aloof. It was as if the world didn't faze him, which was lovely in a way. He was so absorbed by music, by life, that he didn't let it get him down. Kurt felt as if he almost needed that in his life, because in his world the things that absorbed him were distractions from the pure shitiness of being himself.

Really, it should be the other way around.

Lunch was the only interesting part of his day, because he got to talk about how happy he was at the moment. These feelings of happiness were so rare that Mercedes was all too happy to hear him blather on about Blaine and how his dad was doing and how his dad _loved_ Blaine. He almost didn't hear Rachel sit down opposite them at lunch to intervene.

"Kurt, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Mercedes," she said curtly.

"You mean you couldn't help but eavesdrop," Mercedes raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips together at the petit girl, who didn't flinch. Instead, Rachel's eyes flicked back to Kurt very seriously.

"You and I are the same in many ways, Kurt. We love music, are extraordinarily talented and are easily led astray by love. If this 'Blaine' character is the same Blaine you mentioned from your trip to see the Dalton Academy Warblers, I'm afraid I'm going to _have_ to protest."

"Blaine isn't Jesse, Rachel," Kurt rolled his eyes. "For one, he's not an asshole."

Rachel flinched a little bit at the accusation, signalling Finn for support.

"So is he like, your boyfriend now or something?" Finn asked weakly.

"Or something," Kurt looked down at his untouched lunch. "And don't try turn my dad against him. My dad loves Blaine."

Finn just smiled goofily. "Dude, you've got it all wrong. I think it's great that you're getting your gay on."

Kurt chose to ignore the crassness of the statement and instead focused on Rachel's reaction.

"You were _supposed_ to back me up," she seethed. Mercedes giggled from behind her fork.

"Kurt's like, my brother, Rachel," Finn shrugged. "And if this Blaire guy makes him happy..."

"Blaine. His name is Blaine," Kurt corrected.

"Right. If this Blaine guy makes him happy, then whatever."

Rachel stood up from the lunch table briskly, looking up from her tiny frame to the towering height to Finn Hudson.

"If we were married, you'd _so_ be sleeping on the couch tonight."

As she stormed off in a huff, Kurt let himself finally collapse into a pile of giggles with Mercedes. And, for once, Kurt didn't mind that Finn joined in.

* * *

Blaine sat beside his computer, editing the tracks he had just recorded. The chorus needed to be re-recorded on _Not Alone_ and he wanted to get it done before he went to sleep that night. With guitar-callused hands, he reached for his headphones and placed them over his ears. Clicking _play_, he listened to the pre-recorded guitar section fill his ears as he prepared to sing.

"_Baby, you're not alone. 'Cause you're here with me. And nothing's ever gonna bring us down, 'cause nothing can keep me from loving you. And you know it's true. It don't matter what'll come to be, our love is all we need to make it through."_

Oh yes. The dreaded four-letter word had snuck in there not once, but twice (in some variation) and Blaine wasn't that bothered by it at all. Love, he had realised, wasn't a slap in the face. It was a genuine, building emotion. And it was the same as joy, the same as happiness, the same as that feeling of wholeness.

He clicked the record button to shut off the mic and played the song back another time. He had planned on giving the track to Kurt as a present later on, but something was nagging at him. He felt like he needed Kurt to hear it as soon as possible.

With a smile, Blaine resolved to give it to him the night of the Sadie Hawkins dance.

That's when the plan would come together.

* * *

Emma Pillsbury had heard rumours about Kurt having a boyfriend, but just the week before he had told her he didn't have one.

Then again, she had never heard any rumours about Dave Karofsky being gay, and as far as she was concerned, he was as in denial as a person could be.

This, she figured, was simply proof that rumours weren't worth squat.

* * *

**As per request, this is chapter sends love to anyone who's had their first kiss stolen from them.**

**Coincidentally, I am one of those people. All the people I've kissed have been out of my control in some way or another. Including, and especially, my first.**

**I've decided that one day, when I find someone to kiss who I like and who likes me back, I will count _that_ as my first kiss. Because I, like Blaine, think that it only really counts when you want it to.**


	9. We could watch The Breakfast Club

_Tonight is my senior formal. I'm going lonely and dateless. That's all I have to say about that._

_Also, kudos for anyone who made AVPM, AVPS or Dapper Blaine references in their reviews. They made me smile._

_Each and every review is read and appreciated, so thank you guys so much._

_x_

_Alice_

* * *

Chapter Nine: We could watch _The Breakfast Club_

_

* * *

_

It was a full week before Kurt actually made physical contact with Blaine again. The early December weather had turned into a sudden, vicious cold that whisked through the halls of McKinley like a ghost. His boots made an echoing _clack _sound as he strode from precalc to the choir room. He was late after staying behind to speak with his teacher about the latest test, and so the halls were basically empty apart from himself, a few lagging peers, and the ghost of winter. Kurt wrapped his scarf tighter around him like a noose with one hand, fiddling with his phone in the other.

It buzzed.

_From: Blaine_

_I miss you, you know that?_

Kurt smiled, his cheeks turning pink. He missed Blaine, too. More than was probably wise. Burt had complained all weekend about why Kurt was the one cooking instead of his boyfriend. Only, Burt hadn't said _boyfriend_. The word sounded strange coming from Kurt's own mouth, like he wasn't build to acknowledge a romantic relationship before. But when he thought the word it gave him pleasant tingles.

The distance was hard, but necessary. Blaine was busy working for sectionals with The Warblers, writing music (he had vaguely mentioned a song he was finishing) and Kurt was busy taking care of his dad, maintaining a 3.8 GPA and getting ready to blow Rachel Berry out of the water for the latest challenge.

But it was easy to remain infatuated when the object of your affections sent copious amounts of sentimental texts. It was also easy to remain infatuated when you send them back and know he's having the same melty-insides reaction that you are.

As Kurt entered the choir room, he could feel all eyes on him.

"Sorry I'm late," he announced, "I had to speak with Mister..." he trailed off as he noticed that Schue wasn't even there yet.

And Azimio was.

"Princess," Azimio said gruffly, heading towards the doorway awfully quickly for someone of his side.

"Yo, yo, calm down!" Puck called, getting out of his seat rather fast. "I'm sure Kurt has an explanation."

"An explanation about what?" Kurt frowned. In response, Azimio cracked his knuckles.

The rest of the Glee club sat in silence, either out of curiosity or fear. Kurt didn't know, but he _also_ didn't know what he'd done to deserve the whole knuckle cracking intimidation thing. Apart from the usual, that is; being himself.

"Karofsky," Finn said slowly. "He's been taken off the football team."

"He's been taken out of _school_," Puck nodded. "Apparently he's a bit fucked up."

"He has some stuff he has to work out," Kurt agreed. "But I don't understand why it's any of my business."

Azimio laughed humourlessly, crossing the choir room to come right up to Kurt's face. Finn, Puck and Mike all tailed him, and Puck even managed to push Azimio away a little before he spat out what he wanted to say.

"It's your _business_," he spat, "because you're the one who sent him to the Freak to get psyched out."

Kurt rolled his eyes. No way were they trying to pin this on him. All he had done was try to help (in his way) and get Karofsky to back the hell off.

"Miss Pillsbury was _helping_ him, Azimio," Kurt frowned, thankful for the other Glee guys backing him up. They were standing almost in between himself and the bigger teenager, and Kurt was sure that it wasn't an easy decision for them. Who do they side with? The gay kid who just ruined their football team or the jock who can make their lives a living hell?

Evidently their choice was the former.

"Wait," Finn frowned in a confused way. "Why did Karofsky need help, Kurt?"

The entire Glee club was waiting intently for Kurt's response. His mouth opened to say something like 'Because he's a hyper-violent closeted homosexual' but the words just couldn't escape his mouth. It wasn't his secret to tell, so instead he closed his mouth and said...

"Let's just say that I really hope some time away from this place will do him some good."

Azimio prepared to lunge at Kurt, but the other boys held him back.

"I swear to god, I'm going to kill you, you fa-"

"What the hell is going on in here?" Kurt turned and saw Mr Schuester standing in the doorway with his arms folded. He had his Teacher Face on, frowning and authoritative.

"Get out of my rehearsal," Schue threatened, pointing towards the door, "Or I will drop your grade in Spanish so fast that you won't even have time to plead your case."

Azimio shrugged his jacket further up his shoulders and hunched. He cast a glare at Kurt on his way out, and Kurt tried not to flinch. But he felt himself flinching back just enough to get a small smile from Azimio before he stormed past Schue and out into the halls.

"Okay," Schue turned back to the Glee club. "Boys, take your seats. Let's take it from the top."

* * *

After school, but before Warblers practice, Blaine was wandering through the halls of Dalton rather aimlessly. He'd been in that twitterpated state of mind that made winter seem like spring, and he really didn't mind.

Why? Because he had finished the song.

_The_ song. The chorus-less song that had given him all that grief. And the only reason he oculd finish the song was because he was in love.

That was a funny thought. So funny that Blaine had to laugh out loud. _In love_. That was such a foreign concept to him, but he fully understood it now. He used to think that love wasn't real, that it was just regular emotions amplified to seem like something more. But love, like all emotions, was easy to find and easy to hold on to.

He wasn't scared of it any more.

His phone buzzed and he heard _Baby, It's Cold Outside_ ring from his pocket. Blaine smiled as he saw Kurt's name on the screen and answered quickly, flipping it open. The cold metal zinged his ear, but he didn't flinch away.

"Hey," he answered happily. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much," Kurt replied breezily. "Apart from Karofsky getting taken out of school."

Blaine stopped walking. "What? Why?"

"Probably for being severely unhinged. Azimio – the guy who trashed your car? He's out to get me, now."

"Damn," Blaine said softly. "Well, you know what we can do?"

"What?"

Blaine smiled into the phone. "I'll come over tonight. Make you guys dinner. And we can watch _The Breakfast Club_ and it'll be great."

"Not sure how that solves the Azimio problem..."

"John Hughes solves everything."

"... I guess it's worth a shot."

Blaine hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket, the forbidden word hanging on his lips like a curse. He could say it. He _could_. But over the phone isn't the way you tell someone you love them for the first time.

* * *

Kurt dropped his bag on the sofa and sat beside his dad. Wheel of Fortune, just an average Monday night.

"Blaine's going to come over for dinner tonight," he mentioned absently. His dad just nodded once, transfixed by the spinning wheel on the screen.

"Oh, wait," Burt turned to his son, "Carole and Finn are coming over."

Kurt's heart stopped. Finn? And Blaine? _Meeting_ each other? It wasn't exactly ideal, now was it? Also, if Finn was over for dinner, Kurt had a feeling that 'watching The Breakfast Club' might actually involve _watching_ The Breakfast Club instead of it being an excuse to be in Kurt's room by themselves.

The last time they had seen each other, they had watched Sixteen Candles and Blaine had let Kurt lie on his lap while Blaine traced patterns into Kurt's arms. It had been lovely, and with Finn there it would be nothing like that.

No jokes about the 80s fashion, no quoting the lines, no kissing when the characters kissed. It would just be rigid _movie watching_, and Kurt hated that.

"Okay," Kurt replied tightly.

Burt frowned. "No, not okay. Something's bothering you. You don't want Carole and Finn and meet him?"

Kurt turned to look at his father, the surprise evident on his face. The idea that his father could be so well tuned to his concerns was shocking.

"Don't look so amazed," Burt rolled his eyes. "I mean... it's not as if I hadn't noticed that Blaine's... special."

Kurt looked away, feeling his ears turn red. Awkward.

"It's just that I haven't seen him in what feels like forever," Kurt admitted. "It was going to be fun to hang out with him tonight."

Burt looked towards the TV, and the awkwardness grew with the silence. Kurt was about to say something about how it was fine, really, and it didn't matter and they could always hang out another time, but Burt just asked...

"How far away is Dalton?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Just over an hour. Why?"

"Then Blaine better be ready to wake up extra early tomorrow morning if he's going to stay over."

Kurt smiled wide and Burt added, "On the couch." But Kurt didn't care. He was going to spend the night with his boyfriend. And yeah, it would be totally innocent (mostly) but it meant that his dad knew and didn't care. Or, rather, that he cared enough to let Kurt be happy.

* * *

When the doorbell rang, Blaine didn't take a second thought before yelling, "I'll get it!" and running from the kitchen to answer.

He probably should have, he realised, because the (very) tall boy and the middle-aged woman behind the door looked confused when they saw him behind the threshold.

"Um, who are you?" Finn frowned.

"I'm Blaine," Blaine smiled. "And you must be Finn and Carole. Sorry, I totally had a mind blank."

He stepped to the side and watched the guests hesitate before walking in. Blaine felt a little bit worried that this first impression might have been a bad one. Of course, what kind of guest would run and answer the door? That was stupid of him. He quickly retreated back to the kitchen, tailed by the other guests.

"Mister Hummel is in the living room," he told them. "And Kurt's downstairs."

Carole smiled obligingly and went off to find her boyfriend, but Finn remained in the kitchen.

"So," Finn began. "You're Blaine."

Blaine smiled again. "Yeah. I go to school at Dalton."

"Yeah, I hear," Finn rubbed the back of his neck. "You're in the Warblers."

Blaine nodded and went back to stirring the pot. "And you sing lead for the New Directions."

Finn smiled, and Blaine caught it out of the corner of his eye. But Finn didn't boast. In fact, he berated himself.

"I don't know why," he laughed. "I'm not half as good as Kurt."

Blaine shrugged. "I've never really heard him sing properly, before. But he tells me that he can hit a high F, which is just crazy."

The small talk went on like that for another ten minutes before Kurt came up from his room. He entered the kitchen quietly, and it took a while for Blaine to notice Kurt standing just off the doorway.

"Hey," his lips turned into a small smile. "We're almost finished cooking." Kurt nodded, and offered a miniscule smile in return, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Kurt," Finn turned to him slowly. "I was, uh, kinda hoping that you could tell me what's wrong with Karofsky."

Blaine turned to Kurt as well and raised an eyebrow at him. The gesture was meant to be a kind of support, but Blaine didn't feel like it was helping much.

"Well, I was kind of hoping that I could put that behind me," was Kurt's diplomatic response. He then helped Finn and Blaine set up for dinner, and the dinner itself was eaten in almost-silence.

Everyone complimented Blaine's cooking, and he smiled shyly and thanked them. He answered all of Carole's questions about Dalton and music, and he was waiting (quite anxiously) for her to ask 'How long have you two been dating' or something equally awkward. Kurt had told him that while Burt was kind-of-maybe-sort-of in the loop about their relationship, he was still a bit iffy about it. Blaine understood and didn't want to make it into a _thing_, especially when his own parents hadn't even met Kurt yet.

That was a strange thought. His parents had always been fine about the whole 'gay' thing, and they were very supportive of his first relationship. But he didn't introduce his first boyfriend to them until they had been dating for over a month. He had known Kurt for a few weeks, officially been with him for one week, and he was thinking about introducing him to his _parents_.

Not the mention the love thing. The love thing was strange for anyone dating for only a week, even and especially if one of those people had been so avoidant of love that he couldn't even write it into a song.

Of course, now it was kind of a recurring theme in his newest creations. But that was hardly the point.

Later that night, when Finn and his mother had gone home ("I look forward to having some of that barbecue chicken Burt told me about! Next time, okay sweetie?") Kurt and Blaine retreated to the basement bedroom to watch The Breakfast Club.

"You know," Blaine pointed out as they collapsed on the couch together, "the kid who plays Brian plays the jock in Edward Scissorhands."

"No way..." Kurt smiled. "That's funny."

And just like with Sixteen Candles, they watched the movie holding each other, Blaine tracing patterns into Kurt's arm, into his air and on his chest. Blaine glanced over to his backpack. _Not Alone_ was just sitting in there, waiting for the Sadie Hawkins dance for a chance to be played.

With that though, Blaine leant down to Kurt, who rested on his lap, and kissed him briefly and softly on the lips.

_I should say it,_ he though. _Now. I should say it now_.

But the word hung on his lips again, so instead he brushed his hand over Kurt's cheek and kissed him once more, hoping that the feeling could pass through that way.

* * *

**Reviews = love for love's sake.**


	10. Remember that night

_Sorry for the late__ update. I was hungover for the whole day after the formal and the next night I went to Harry Potter at midnight and then for the past two days I've been getting ready for my trip._

_Anyway, just to clear something up:_

_Karofsky was not kicked out of school for being a closeted homosexual. He wasn't kicked out of school at all. He was taken out of school for being very depressed and confused. Key words: taken, not kicked; very depressed, not a closeted homosexual. I mean, he IS a closeted homosexual, but... whatever._

_x_

_Alice_

_P.S. Did anyone watch Darren at the Deathly Hallows NY premier? HOW FUCKING CUTE WAS HE? AH!_

_

* * *

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Chapter Ten: Remember that night

* * *

Sweet kisses, soft and sure. Tongues dancing for dominance as they lay on the couch, bodies pressed close together like they need to become one. Kurt's eyes flutter and he gasps as Blaine's lips graze his neck, soft kisses trailing down to the exposed collarbone.

Kurt's breath is shaky. His hair is messed, his toes are going numb. Blaine's mouth lifts from Kurt's neck and his hazel-gold eyes hit Kurt like a train. Blaine's perfectly full lips make soft shapes as the words flow out...

"Kurt, I love _._"

Kurt's hand swung over to turn off the alarm by his bedside table, the dream escaping him in the last grasps for unconsciousness. He felt the phantom of Blaine's kisses on his lips, but other than that the dream remained lost in the darkness behind his eyes.

He groaned and looked at his digital clock where the date flashed. Mentally he counted the days until the dance. Three. That also made it day nineteen of being with Blaine. Almost three weeks. In fact, Kurt realised, the Sadie Hawkins dance marked the three week point.

The thought made him feel strangely sad. Despite Mercedes' constant insistence that she would be perfectly fine with Kurt taking Blaine to the dance instead of her, Kurt didn't want to let down someone who meant so much to him. And, furthermore, McKinley wasn't ready for it.

Ever since Karofsky had been transferred (Kurt didn't want to know to where), Azimio had been more than making up for the abuse Kurt would have missed otherwise. Not to mention the constant begging of the Glee kids to fess up what the big deal was. If McKinley couldn't handle something like this, no way would they be able to handle a same-sex couple (that is, one that wasn't Brittany and Santana...)

Kurt went to the bathroom and showered briefly before slipping into his Alexander McQueen blazer and a pair of red skinny jeans, an outfit that he knew would gather looks and possibly scorn. But fashion, Kurt believed, was above that sort of pettiness.

School had turned into a flavourless mush over the past few weeks. The winter had turned even colder, from pleasantly brisk to _Baby It's Cold Outside_-esque frostiness. Class usually involved huffing and puffing into his hands so that they stayed warm enough to write, and Glee revolved around Rachel trying her darndest to convince everyone that every time the cold air got stuck in her throat or she had a bit of a cold that the world was going to end.

God forbid if Rachel was off key _once_ in her whole life.

Kurt made his way through the busy hallways, clutching a coffee in a gloved hand. The heat of the drink seared all the way through to the flesh on his fingers and made him feel a bit warmer.

Glee club had been better recently, Kurt reflected. Schue had obviously taken his crazed tirade to heart because the last few weeks had been filled with challenging, teen-appropriate themes and originality. And Miss Pillsbury gave Kurt understanding smiles whenever she passed him in the halls, though they hadn't really spoken since she officially announced to him the reason for Karofsky's transfer.

"I think you deserve to know the truth," she had told him.

As Kurt opened his locker and glanced at the picture of Blaine, now surrounded by two polaroids and a photo booth session of them together, he thought about that. Truth.

If anyone deserved the truth, it was the Glee club. They were there behind him, always ready to help. They deserved honesty.

They deserved to meet Blaine.

* * *

"I was thinking..." Kurt began as he poked at his sushi aimlessly with his chopsticks.

"That's dangerous," Blaine joked, leaning over the table and stealing one shushi roll, popping it into his own mouth.

Kurt just smiled up at him, "I was thinking you should meet the Glee club."

Blaine smiled and swallowed. "And by that you mean that you think I should meet your friends."

"You've met Finn," Kurt continued, finally daring to have a piece of sushi, "And Mercedes. But that's two out of, like, thirteen."

Blaine just took Kurt's hand across the table. "I'd love to meet your friends."

After all, Blaine reasoned, Kurt had met his friends. His semi-insane friends. And Kurt's friends were a huge part of his life and it would be absolutely silly not to want to meet them.

Blaine suggested that because he had a free period that afternoon, he would come over for Glee rehearsal and meet all of them. Kurt was a little bit worried that the drive to and from Dalton would be too much...

"It's like two and a half hours by car that way," Kurt frowned. "And we meet halfway for lunch and it's still a huge distance."

Blaine simply smiled and shook his head. Kurt really didn't get it, did he? He didn't get that miles felt like metres and that hours were seconds to him, now. That was what it felt like.

"I'll tell you what," Blaine offered. "I'm playing a gig tonight at the cafe, not just as ambience music but as an actual performer, which is cool. My friends are going to be there, and you should come and bring your friends and we can all explain how non-spying this is."

"This?"

"Our relationship," Blaine explained, taking a defensive sip from his coke.

Kurt turned a fetching shade of pink at that and looked out the window to hide it. Blaine just smiled to himself and watched Kurt eat the remainder of his sushi.

* * *

It was pouring with rain, ice rain that refused to turn into snow. Kurt and Mercedes were huddled up in the corner of the cafe, closest to the heater. The rest of the Glee club hadn't arrived yet, which was good. Because neither had Blaine. David and Wes, the two Dalton boys who Kurt had met on his first trip there, entered the doorway with umbrellas before spotting Kurt in the corner.

"It's the Spy!" Wes shouted happily before walking briskly up to Kurt and Mercedes. David smiled broadly at Kurt as Wes introduced himself for Mercedes.

"Spy, have you seen Blaine?" David asked quizzically.

"Yeah, he's not usually late for a gig like this."

Before Kurt could ask what that meant, a gaggle of girls and boys rushed through the door and pushed to get as close to the makeshift stage as possible.

"Most of those girls," David explained, "Are from our sister school or beyond. People around those parts think Blaine is like a god or something."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, "And I take it that they have no idea he's gay?"

Wes laughed, sitting down beside Mercedes, "It's not like he pretends to be straight, but what the girls don't know can't hurt them."

The fact bothered Kurt only slightly, because he (of all people) knew how fabulously gay Blaine was. They would have endless discussions about Prop 8 and the like, he loved musical theatre and (most importantly) he loved kissing Kurt, which was just about all the proof needed.

A few minutes later, Rachel, Artie, Finn, Puck, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Tina, Quinn and Sam all came through the door as well, dripping from the rain. Puck was pushing Artie through the crowd of girls, nodding suggestively at the ones who hadn't bothered to change out of their uniforms.

"Nothing's hotter than a girl in a skanky uniform," was his greeting to Kurt as the group reached the table.

"I'll take your word for it," Kurt raised his eyebrows, causing Wes and David to laugh.

"Oh, we're Blaine's friends," Wes pointed out, introducing himself and waving a little shyly.

"Where is Blaine, anyway?" Finn asked, obviously excited to be one of the only people who had previously met him before.

Kurt was about to open his mouth to say 'I don't know' when Blaine, soaked from the rain, burst through the doors. Without even acknowledging his friends in the corner, he peeled off his wet jacket and ran a hand through his damp, untamed curls. Then, probably freezing in nothing must a moist white t-shirt and jeans, he took to the stage and picked up the guitar.

"Sorry I'm late," he breathed into the microphone, which sent a wave of giggles through the girls in the audience. His eyes flicked to the back of the room, locking with Kurt's. Kurt grinned unabashedly back, which lit up a smile on Blaine's face.

"That's Blaine?" Santana asked, leaning in to Kurt's ear.

Kurt nodded.

"Damn," was all she said, before Blaine's guitar was strummed twice and he said...

"Well, I'm Blaine. And this is _Stutter_."

* * *

**Reviews from this chapter send love to the writer because she's going to London in two days and probably won't be updating very well. **


	11. AUTHOR NOTE

Author's Note:

I can't get over **how incredible** each and every one of my reviewers is. You guys are all so totally awesome and I feel like such a bitch for not updating for, what, two and a half weeks? (In reality, it's probably one one and a half weeks or something like that. But it feels like forever.)

Because this story means a lot to me in terms of the response it's gotten and the time I've invested into it, I think I owe you guys an explanation.

I'm currently in a flat in London, where my computer belongs to my grandmother and I only get about an hour on it a day. Which seems like a strange excuse, I know, but the truth is that I usually write each chapter in one sitting (I'm stupid like that) and one hour is NOT enough time to produce something of quality for you guys and I can't save anything because of the whole Grandmother's Computer issue.

So, for that, I am so, so sorry.

I get back to Australia in early January, which feels like an age away, I know. But rest assured that I _will_ update as soon as I get back and I _will_ continue until the story is well and truly done and dusted. For those of you who take one look at this A.N. and say, **"Fuck this, I'm going to Hogwarts"**, I can't blame you. I myself lose interest in fics very easily if they fail to update for prolonged periods of time.

But, in the gap between now and then, we have Darren's blossoming career, episodes of Glee and all that general awesomeness to tie us down. So please, please, please do not give up on this story because I love reading all of your reviews, however short/long/spazzy/incomprehensible they are.

DFTBA,

Alice

P.S. Is anyone else upset that Dalton isn't like infraredphaeton's Spah 'verse? Weak.

P.P.S I have written a few drabbles and stuff, but I've only put them on the kurt_blaine community on Livejournal. My author name there is propaganzaful, so check me out if you want to read crappy ficlets that I've written and posted in under an hour.

P.P.P.S Seriously, if you haven't read Spah 'verse yet, I urge you to go to infrareadphaeton on livejournal and read her stuff. She's a great writer and it's super hilarious!


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